Voice Above, Sky Within
by commandork-lexi
Summary: Caeila grew up a warrior, a prodigy, a blue-blooded noblewoman destined for greatness (yet she only wanted freedom). Azrael was a troublemaker, a bastard, a reject of society on a downwards spiral (yet she only wanted redemption). It was the Imperial City that brought them together, but it is Helgen that keeps them inseperable. (Two Dragonborns, Femslash)
1. The Introduction

**Title:** Voice Above, Sky Within

 **Rating:** T

 **Pairings:** F/F, Caeila/Lydia, _Caeila/Aela_ , Azrael/Astrid, Azrael/Vex, _Azrael/Sapphire_ , _Iona/Vex_

 **Summary:** Caeila grew up a warrior, a prodigy, a blue-blooded noblewoman destined for greatness (yet she only wanted freedom). Azrael was a troublemaker, a bastard, a reject of society on a downwards spiral (yet she only wanted redemption). It was the Imperial City that brought them together, but it is Helgen that keeps them inseperable. (Double Dovahkiin, F/F)

 **;**

12th of Mid Year, 4E 201

A young girl passes by a poster plastered onto the wall of the Imperial City. She leans forward, squints at the likeness of two women etched onto the paper, and she nearly drops her basket full of fruits and vegetables. She recognizes those faces, childhood friends of hers.

The first is a half-Imperial, half-Bosmer woman with wild hair and determined eyes. She remembers her dearly. The prodigal daughter of her noble house, Caeila Kokabiel Valeria is known for her prowess in batle, her steady form, her intense gaze, her fiery determination. She is a knightly in attitude, gentle in nature, down-to-earth in temperament. She holds a sword with strength and vigor, a hand with comfort and passion, a gift with tenderness and love. The young girl remembers looking up to her, the visionary, the role model, the nobleborn with a heart of gold... she is missing, and it breaks her heart.

When she closes her eyes, she sees Caeila in her mind. Tan skin and brown hair, wrestled into archaic braids from each of her temples to the back of her head. She stands tall, towering over the tall girl, wearing full set of fur armor and an ebony pendant hanging from her neck. Warpaint covers her eyes, charcoal stains like teartracks on both of her prominent cheeks, and her smile is reassuring, steady, one that fills the girl with strength.

The second is a half-Dunmer, half-Nord woman with narrowed eyes and an angular face. She is not so fond of this woman, but recognizes her nevertheless. Azrael Malphas Methylon grew up a street urchin, the same orphanage as her, but Azrael is far darker than any of her kind. Her determined flair is often taken for dominance, stubborness, and outright insubordination, usually overlooked because she is a bastard of a highborn. She is shadows incarnate, silent but omnipotent, everywhere and nowhere. She, too, is missing, but the girl doesn't know how she feels about that.

When she looks over her shoulder, she can imagine Azrael in the shadows of the alley. Gray skin and black locks, astoundingly beautiful but poised for the kill. She is crouched low, blending into the darkness, her crimson eyes flashing in the shadows. Her features are pronounced and sharp, her teeth perfectly white as her lips pull into a grin worthy of Azura's pride. Daedra-spawn with the beauty of an Aedra, and it fills the girl with fear.

She turns away from the poster. Azrael and Caeila. She knows them as inseperable, so who is to say that they did not run awa together? They are of age, capable of handling themselves, but why would the? Azrael, she would understand, but Caeila? She had her entire life ahead of her, one good deed after another, so why would she leave?

The young girl feels dread creep up her spine and she turns away from the poster. She fears the worst, she always does.

 **;**

 _ **MISSING!**_

 _Caeila Kokabiel Valeria_

 _Daughter of Sylvia and Cinrin of House Valeria. Apprentice of Commander Maro of the Penitus Oculatus._

 _Description: Female Imperial, twenty-one years of age. Wears steel or iron armor. Five feet, nine inches in height. Lean-bodied. Tanned skin, dark-brown hair (often in braids), and green eyes. Has almost Bosmer-like facial features. Charcoal warpaint like teartracks on cheeks._

 _Any citizen with information should contact the Penitus Oculatus._

 _\- Leader of the Penitus Oculatus, Commander Maro_

 _ **MISSING!**_

 _Azrael Malphas Mephylon_

 _Bastard daughter of Forneus Vapula Mephylon. Spellsword._

 _Description: Female Dunmer, twenty-three years of age. Wears fur or ragged shrouded armor. Five feet, eleven inches in height. Feminine-bodied. Gray skin, black hair (last seen shoulder-length), and crimson eyes. Has almost Nord-like facial features. Red wairpaint dots on both cheeks, and a black vertical line on chin._

 _Any citizen with information should contact the Penitus Oculatus._

 _\- Leader of the Penitus Oculatus, Commander Maro_

 **;**

 **A/N:** Short and sweet, yeah? Greetings, gentle-viewers! I have five stories up and running, but most of them are prompt-based so I have some time to kill. Here's a side story for all of you lovely people. The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim! I love this game to bits and pieces, and I decided to make a story out of it. Hurrah?

Information about the characters! Caeila is a half-Imperial, half-Bosmer noblewoman who excels at spellsword-type skills. In my mind, she looks like Alycia Debnam-Carey from The 100. Azrael is a half-Dunmer, half-Nord spellsword who excels at thief-type skills. In my mind, she looks like a young, dark elf version of Olivia Wilde.

Next update will be... bah, I don't have a timeframe. I suck at time management. Ciao, gentle-viewers!


	2. The Beginning

**Title:** Voice Above, Sky Within

 **Rating:** T

 **Pairings:** F/F, Caeila/Lydia, _Caeila/Aela_ , Azrael/Astrid, Azrael/Vex, _Azrael/Sapphire_ , _Iona/Vex_

 **Summary:** Helgen was never the beginning. Before they became _Dovahkiin_ , Caeila and Azrael spent most of their time in Skyrim as a part of a bandit group living in the forests surrounding Helgen.

 **;**

13th of Sun's Height

I wake up completely covered in a sheen of sweat. My muscles are aching, sore to the bone, and they cry in agony as I heave myself onto my feet. The bearskin that I have been sleeping on sticks to my arms before falling off completely, leaving me in my fur armor and dishiveled brown hair. I wrench fingers through my tangled locks, grunting as I smooth through most of the burs before allowing them to billow out across my shoulders like a tangle of undergrowth.

The cave is filled with sleeping bandits, with the "great leader" himself napping on a throne of sticks and stones. I pick my way carefully through the sleeping bodies, past the crackling bonfire, and out of the fissure against the cliff face. The ground is dark, the leafless trees darker, their branches interwoven overhead to provide only glimpses of the starry sky.

I adjust easily to the darkness, following footsteps already found on the snowy undergrowth, making it a point to walk in each indent a couple inches larger than my own. It leads to the frozen lake, the only gap in the forest's ceiling, and I find my mark sitting by a tree stump and staring off into the distance in the stereotypical way that she often does. She is leaning forward, elbows braced against her spread knees, chin perched atop her threaded fingers. She sits like a man, I realize for the hundredth time since I met her, and does so better than any men I've ever met.

In the soft moonlight, her gray skin is pale, almost luminescent with an eerie afterglow. Her crimson eyes flash like blood moons in the darkness, focusing on me as I approach before taking a seat beside her. The frozen lake lies in front of us, a giant slab of ice reflecting the moonlight and bathing everything around us in tender illumination, with the trees just beyond like dancing shadows against the sky.

"You still haven't told me why you followed me here," I hear her say, voice so soft and gentle for a woman with such a dark and deadly reputation. Her jet-black hair falls in voloptuous waves on either side of her face, framing a prominent jawbone and sharp, pronounced features. A crease can be seen between her furrowed eyebrows, seeking answers and _demanding_ explanations.

"You know that living as a rogue has always been a dream of mine," I respond cautiously, taking note that my voice is more rough, more callous than hers. I lift my arms as I speak, wrenching my wild hair back and attempting to braid it on my own. She sees me and slaps my hands out of the way, settling behind me before weaving her fingers into my locks.

"Not here with the bandits," she hisses, although it sounds more like a melodic tune. "Here, in Skyrim. Why _did_ you leave Cyrodiil with me?"

"Ah." I allow her to braid my hair, as she has always done before. Her hands are deft, skilled, hardly tugging at my scalp. "You know I wasn't lying to you when I said I would follow you to the ends of Mundus."

"Mundus has no end," Azrael points out, and I respond with a laugh.

"That's the point."

"Caeila," she states sharply, tugging on a lock of my hair and causing me to wince. I look at her over my shoulder, at her distraught face, the crease between her brows, the lower lip caught between her teeth, the doubt flashing in her eyes. "You had your whole life ahead of you back in Cyrodiil. You were in line to become a prestiged member of the Penitus Oculatus. You had everthing. Why come with me to become an outcast in this backwater province?"

"The Penitus Oculatus," I exclaim in disbelief, snorting at the thought of the Emperor's bumbling, incompetent guards. I reach over and smack her bicep, causing a smile to ripple onto her features. "I'd go to Oblivion before even _considering_ such a thing. No, I'd rather be out here with you. Imagine the reputation we'd maintain." My gaze rises to the sky, to the holes torn by the Aedra, to the light shining through from Aetherius. "People will learn to either love us or fear us. We will haunt the streets with our name. Homesteads will whisper about our bravery and cunning." A chuckle. "We make a great team, Azrael, and I wouldn't want to lose you."

"Careful. With the way that you're speaking, I'm beginning to think that you're in love with me," she teases, and I let out an undignified scoff before turning around and shoving her shoulders, causing her to sway back, still laughing.

"Sod off," I snort in amusement before letting her return to braiding my hair. She finishes in relative silence, until intricate braids can be found on either sides of my temple, merging at the back of my head with the rest of my wild locks spilling beneath it. I touch the loops with the pad of my finger, testing their security before whipping around to face the half-Dunmer. "But really, Azrael, Skyrim is the only place where we can be us without the echoes of the families that we belong in. You are not Methylon and I am not Valeria. You are Azrael Shadow-Skin and I am Caeila the Unshamed, and they will know us only by these names."

 **;**

19th of Sun's Height

I see Azrael to my left, hiding in the shadows of the canopy. Her slender fingers are moving, motioning to the camp just beyond the treeline, and I understand each gesture as if she has spoken to me verbally. With an understanding nod, she sinks further into the darkness until she is no longer visible, and I turn to the rest of the bandits to explain the plan.

"Azrael will pick them off one by one. If any of them notice, we charge," I tell them, and most are inclined to agree. The chief, however, seems disgruntled by our plan, almost as if he is upset that we are taking charge. I pay him no mind, he doesn't matter much to me, and creep closer to the camp to get a better view.

They gather by a fire, immediately giving away their location. They are made up of several Nords, two Imperials, a Bosmer, and a Redguard, all guarding a cage with a patched-up cloth over it. I begin to wonder what might lie within (perhaps a Sabre Cat), but when I do another headcount, I see that they're missing a Nord. _It's beginning_.

I keep my eyes trained to the darkness at the edges of their camp, barely seeing Azrael as she begins to pick off anyone who gets to close. One Imperial decides to relieve himself, and he never returns. The second Imperial wanders off afer his buddy, and is never seen again. By this time, the Nords have grown weary, and the Redguard looks absolutely livid. When one more Nord tries to swing at the shadows with his battle-axe, Azrael finally breaks into the light, a flash of gray and black and crimson eyes as she wraps her hands around his face and twists his head to an odd, bone-breaking angle.

The Redguard lets out a battlecry that mirrors my own, and I leap off of the trees and land on top of one unsuspecting Nord, digging the point of my dagger into the back of its neck. The battle ensues, with my bandits going against his, steel against steel until it is all that can be heard. I find my back pressed against Azrael, taking down enemies with my dagger and her bow and arrow.

The Bosmer attempts to sneak up on Azrael, and I dart forward to slam the hilt of my weapon against her sternum. It nearly ruptures beneath my blows, and when she attempts to swing her mace at me, I allow my arm to take the brunt of the force before surprising her with a fire spell directly to the face. Her skin bubbles underneath the heat, filling the air with the smell of burning flesh and the sound of agonizing screams. It pierces through the song of battle.

By the time I cease the flames, I see that the Redguard is gone, as well as our chief. Some of our bandits remain standing, grinning in the euphoria of victory, but my eyes land on the cloth-covered cage and I immediately approach. My fingers touch he soft material as I feel Azrael behind me, still high on adrenaline, if her quick and shallow breaths are anything to go by.

"What is it?"

"Maybe it's a dragon," I joke before clutching the cloth in my hands and giving it a tug. Within the cage lies not a dragon, not a Sabre Cat, not even a Wolf. Within the metal (or is that silver?) bars is a woman in ancient Nord armor, her hair as vibrant as the bonfire behind us, her eyes glowing a brilliant golden hue. Her lips are pulled back into a feral snarl, her body crouched down low, muscles rippling in anger, and it strikes me as such an odd sigh that I can't help but stare in awe.

"Khajiit got your tongue?" Came Azrael's voice, evicting me from my thoughts and causing me to blink several times. I elbow her stomach playfully before unlocking the cage doors, taking a step back to gift the woman her freedom. She straightens up to her feet, eyes weary and doubtful, striding past the opened cage before staring at me calculatively. I match the gaze with curiosity, green eyes meeting gold, and it is only broken when she looks down at my outstretched hand.

"Didn't think they were hiding a woman, but whatever. Do you have a name?"

Her only response is a growl. The red-haired woman pulls back, snarls threateningly, before darting away from the camp with a speed too fast for a normal Nord. I watch her retreating figure fade away before letting out a low, appreciative whistle. Behind me, Azrael breaks into laughter.

"' _Oh, gee, thank you, my saviours! You have freed me from these bandits and I am in your debt. Use me as you will!_ ' I bet that was the kind of thanks you were expecting," Azrael sneered, her voice high-pitched at her attempt at mocking the redhead. I swing my dagger at her, but she blocks it easily with her blow. "You just got blown off."

"Sod off," I enunciate sharply before turning my face to the bodies littering the camp, to the bandits celebrating with ale and mead. "You have to wonder... why did they kidnap her and keep her cage covered?"

"Maybe they were planning to sell her off as a-" Before Azrael could finish, a horn sounds in the distance, one low-pitched blast followed by the scream of a man. I recognize it, but a little too late.

"Imperial Legion," I warn, just as arrows rain down from the sky.

 **;**

 **A/N:** Hooeey, here we go. Startin' off the story pre-Helgen, with a little snippet of how our two Dovahkiins interact with each other. Azrael is actually a rather playful character who likes to joke around (and I imagine her to have her Harley Quinn moments, too) while Caeila is more of a genuinely nice person who is trying to break out of the "noble" stereotype that she grew up in. And OOH DID WE JUST SEE A CAMEO OF AELA?

Anwho, next chaper will include the actual _beginning_ of the game, albeit modified because hello, we have two Dovahkiins now and they are gonna kickass. Will they be separated? Will they stick together? Who knows!

Oh, wait. I do.

I appreciate everyone's support regarding this update. Ciao, gentle-viewers!


End file.
